


It was Only a Nightmare

by pudding_bretzel



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Jason is an adorable smol bean, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_bretzel/pseuds/pudding_bretzel
Summary: An accident leaves Jason as a seven-year-old. Turns out being a child again is harder than it sounds. Fortunately, he's not alone in this.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 484
Collections: Finished111





	It was Only a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something before the end of the year. (I'm not sure whether this will get more chapters or not, but I'll wonder about that in the future.) But here you have a bit of fluff for the end of the year. Wish you all the best for the new year!

At first Bruce isn’t sure what woke him up. 

His room is barely lit by the full moon shining through the windows, occasionally covered by clouds and shrouding the room in darkness. The wind outside is softly howling, but it’s not near strong enough to have woken him. It’s still deep in the night. 2:24 a.m. his clock tells him, taunting him with the blaring red light and the fact that he’s barely managed an hour of sleep before he woke up again.

He lets his gaze travel over the room. Nothing seems out of place, there’s his dresser, tucked into the corner, the bookshelf, the door to his bathroom and the small shadow lurking in the door to the hallway. 

Wait.

His eyes go back to the small figure and despite the moon’s light it takes them a few seconds to focus on the person. They’re small, the head only just reaching the door handle. The black curly hair is tousled beyond saving and for a moment Bruce is sure he’s hallucinating.

The only child living in the manor is Damian, and the boy is significantly taller than this one. Hallucinating is the only plausible answer to what he’s seeing right now. 

But then the person speaks, in a hushed whisper, barely reaching Bruce’s ears.

“Bruce?”

And then he remembers. He remembers what happened the night before. The confusion he felt when instead of Red Hood it had been a small child contacting him over the comms. The moment he realized that said child was none other than his second son, deep in trouble once again and with no backup, because when did the boy ever ask for help, even when he needed it desperately. 

He looks back at the tired eyes of his shrunken son for a moment, collecting himself. He knew it would be difficult to look at Jason for the near future until that blasted curse would lose its effect but looking at the boy now makes him realize – _really_ realize – how hard it’s going to be. 

“What’s wrong Jason?” Bruce answers softly, his voice still thick with sleep. He pushes himself upright in his bed and with a small wave of his hand beckons Jason closer to the bed.

Hesitantly, the boy obliges, pulling the door shut and trudging over to the bed. He comes to a halt a small distance away, just out of Bruce’s reach.

Observing his son, he realizes once again, how similar he looks now to when Bruce met him for the first time. It hurts, in more ways than one, thinking about the fact that at seven years old, Jason is barely smaller than he was when Bruce found him at age 12. Bruce almost forgot how small Jason was back then. The surprise shouldn’t be so shocking to him, considering the giant his son has become in adulthood, but for some reason it still is. Maybe deep down he wished his little boy would never grow up. Just like he did with Dick and Tim and does with Damian. 

Jason still hasn’t answered. Instead he started bothering his lower lip, a nasty habit Bruce and Alfred have once successfully broken him of. 

It isn’t the only thing that changed – or rather reverted – since Jason turned back into a seven-year-old. Despite the fact that he still retained all of his adult memories, there are other things about his behavior that seem to have changed back. 

The caution he practices in close range to an adult, especially males it seems. The flinches when voices get too loud or his hesitation when given the new clothes Alfred had bought for him to wear after they established that he wouldn’t turn back any time soon.

It reminds Bruce eerily of the first few months Jason spent at the manor all those years ago. 

That memory had always squeezed Bruce from the inside out with the realization that that small precious boy was long gone and never coming back.

Looking at Jason now, he feels thrown back to the past with the painful reminder that said boy is, in fact, not as gone as his heart and mind still want him to believe. 

“What’s wrong Jay?” Bruce whispers, trying his hardest not to make the boy flinch again. But his voice cuts through the silence despite his caution and Jason bites down hard on his lower lip. He still doesn’t answer.

Instead, he climbs up the bed and sits at its edge, feet tucked under his legs and making himself look smaller than Bruce thinks should be physically possible. 

The action is so unusual for the boy that it takes Bruce by surprise. Jason would never simply sit with him in silence like this. Except he did, didn’t he? Years ago. Jason coming to him when he was troubled deep in the night, was almost normal at one point in the past.

Bruce feels his features soften with the memory and he pulls back his covers like he’s done so many times before. 

Immediately, Jason crawls closer and lays his head down on the pillow with a soft huff. Bruce settles back down as well and watches the ceiling as he waits. Either Jason will start talking at some point, or he won’t. It’s up to him and Bruce has learned not to push him in a situation like this. 

At some point during the last years though, he must have forgotten. It’s never been easy with Jason since he came back. It’s always harsh words, taunting actions and wary looks. Pain, caution and stubbornness, keeping them as far from each other as possible, despite his heart that yearns to hold his son in his arms once again. To hold the boy one last time like he can with his other children without wasting a thought over it.

But not with Jason. Not with all his sharp edges and gaping wounds.

“Had a Nightmare.”

 _Still the same_ , Bruce thinks fondly and turns to look at Jason. He’s got the blanket tucked up all the way to his ear, his eyes following the intricate pattern of the bed’s covers.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A shake of his head. “Wasn’t that bad.”

Bruce doubts it, but if Jason doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t force him to. So instead of probing he hums a small affirmation and looks back at the ceiling. Only thing to do now is wait until either Jason opens up or sleep claims the two of them again.

Slowly, the moonlight starts to vanish completely and the room is plunged in darkness. The wind howling outside starts to gather strength, throwing itself against the windows and rattling the trees. The storm announced for tonight is slowly starting to build up.

A small whimper to his right has him turning back to his son and watch as the small form curls up beneath the blanket.

 _Some detective you are_ , Bruce scolds himself as he watches Jason shiver under the covers and realize why he really sought him out. It wasn’t just the nightmare that brought the boy to his room. Of course, a bad dream would rattle him, but Jason knew how to handle those. Even as a child he’d had his methods to go back to sleep or distract himself until morning comes when the dream had been exceptionally bad. It made the moments he _actually_ came to Bruce for comfort all the more special.

To see his adult son reduced to this small bundle of fear tears at Bruce’s heart.

He lays one of his hands on where Jason’s shoulder must be beneath the blanket. “It’s okay Jason, you’re safe in here.”

“I know,” comes a weak retort, but there’s no heat behind the words as Jason moves closer until his head thumps softly against Bruce’s chest.

Releasing a soft sigh at the boy’s continuous stubbornness to talk, Bruce moves his hand to Jason’s back and starts to rub it in small circles. 

“Jaylad, talk to me,” Bruce sighs, slowly losing his patience at feeling the body next to him continue to tremble. He knows this needs to happen on Jason’s terms, but if he doesn’t start talking, he can’t help him calm down. It’s been so long since Bruce had to calm one of his children this age because of night terrors.

A sob finally tears him from his thoughts. Surprised, he looks at Jason. 

“I’m scared,” he manages between sobs and hiccups, desperately clinging to Bruce’s shirt. “A-and I don’t know w-why.”

Bruce slings his arms around his son and holds him close, listening as he finally talks, his words rushing out in one stream.

“I-It’s just the stupid wind, but I couldn’t go back to sleep, a-and the sh-shadows were all–” 

His voice starts to become unintelligible to the point where Bruce can barely make out what he’s saying. But the longer Jason talks, the clearer it becomes why he’s so distraught.

It’s not because he’s scared, or because of the nightmares or the noises. While they are the reason for him being in Bruce’s bedroom and why he’s lying in his arms right now, they’re not the reason why he’s sobbing into Bruce’s shirt. 

“Jay,” Bruce says, interrupting the boy and waiting until he has his attention. Red and blotched eyes look up at him, tears still spilling over his cheeks. 

“It’s okay to need help,” he continues, seeing Jason’s eyes widen at his words.

Then he sits back up, scrambling away from Bruce and shaking his head, scrubbing his hands over his cheeks to get rid of the angry tears. “But I’m an adult, I shouldn’t need this. I should be able to sleep in my own fucking bed and get my shit together!”

“Language,” Bruce says before he can stop himself. 

It hurts hearing Jason admit this. It’s only another show of how he failed the boy that he thinks he shouldn’t be asking his father for help, or in this case, comfort. Though to be fair, he probably shouldn’t be the one preaching about accepting help from others. 

But out of everything his children could have inherited from him, why does it have to be this.

He pushes himself up as well but keeps the distance between Jason and him. “I understand that this must be confusing for you, but Jason,” he says, watching the thick tears fall down onto the covers, “it’s okay to ask for help.”

When he sees Jason open his mouth, ready to no doubt return a rebuttal, he quickly continues. “I ask Alfred for help all the time too.”

It has the desired effect. Jason closes his mouth and looks up at him skeptically.

“That’s different,” he finally mumbles.

“It’s not,” Bruce returns.

“But…” Jason starts, his eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“No buts, Jay.” 

His son looks at him, big eyes searching his face. For what, Bruce isn’t sure, but the two of them stay like this for a small eternity. It’s only once rain finally starts to thunder against the windows, that Jason’s gaze tears away from his and a scared whimper escapes him as he looks outside.

Apparently, that’s all it takes. The next thing he knows, Bruce has his arms full of his scared seven-year-old son. Folding his arms protectively around the boy, Bruce holds him close, whispering small reassurances into his messy mob of hair. 

While he listens as Jason’s breathing slowly but surely evens out, falling asleep in Bruce’s arms, he starts to wonder whether this mess is really such a bad thing.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](https://pudding-bretzel.tumblr.com/).


End file.
